


Delicate? I Went Through That Phase

by mikkimouse



Series: Happy Birthday Mr. Hale [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Laura Hale/Erica Reyes, POV Multiple, Praise Kink, Single Parent Derek, Spanking, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>To: Stiles</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>When are you going to be back in town?</em>
</p>
<p>  <strong>From: Stiles</strong><br/><em>Next weekend.</em><br/><em>What are you thinking? </em></p>
<p>  <strong>To: Stiles</strong><br/><em>I'd like to try that student/teacher fantasy you mentioned. Maybe with spanking, if that's okay.</em></p>
<p>  <strong>From: Stiles</strong><br/><em>FUCK.</em><br/><em>Yes.</em><br/><em>So much yes.</em></p>
<p>(Or: Stiles is coming back from college. Derek has some ideas about how they can spend their time. Smut ensues.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate? I Went Through That Phase

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Eris](http://domesticated-chaos.tumblr.com/) for the beta. She is a beautiful beautiful unicorn. 
> 
> If I've missed any tags, please let me know.
> 
> Title is from Abney Park's "Love."

Derek's phone chimed with a text message tone, and his heart jumped in his chest. Only a handful of people texted him with any regularity, and only one of them would be texting him in the middle of the workday. 

Sure enough, when he checked his phone, he had a new message from Stiles. His heart jumped again, and Derek's fingers shook a little as he swiped the message open. 

**From: Stiles**  
_Results are in! I AM CLEEEEEAAAAAAN!!_

Included was a picture of his test results, giving Derek visual confirmation. He covered his mouth and smothered a laugh. Not that anyone was around to see, but still. 

He wasn't sure which was more ridiculous: how excited he was to hear from Stiles, or how much he felt like a teenager with a crush when they talked. He was thirty years old, for pity's sake, he should have a _little_ more composure. Especially when it was just a message about the results of an STD test. 

_Get it together, Hale_ , Derek told himself sternly before he texted Stiles back. 

**To: Stiles**  
_I take it this means you'd like to ditch the condoms._

He'd barely sent the message when his phone pinged with the response.

**From: Stiles**  
_YES_  
_FOR GOD'S SAKE_  
_YES_

Derek smirked at the enthusiasm in the all-caps. Stiles had been very clear that he'd made his appointment to get tested at the student health center three weeks ago, the last time he'd been in town for the weekend. Derek had gotten his own results a week before. He was willing to stick with condoms for safety reasons, but he was just as excited as Stiles about the prospect of doing without. 

**To: Stiles**  
_When are you going to be back in town?_

**From: Stiles**  
_Next weekend.  
What are you thinking? _

**To: Stiles**  
_I'd like to try that student/teacher fantasy you mentioned. Maybe with spanking, if that's okay._

**From: Stiles**  
_FUCK._  
_Yes.  
So much yes._

**To: Stiles**  
_Any particulars you'd like me to include? Is there anything you've gotten in trouble with from your teachers?_

**From: Stiles**  
_I resent that! I am a model student!_

Derek snorted. His friend Boyd's older sister taught at the high school, and she'd had some choice words about Stiles's ability to derail a class discussion in five minutes or less. 

**To: Stiles**  
_Unless something's changed since you were in high school, I highly doubt that._

**From: Stiles**  
_How do you know that?!_  
_Wait. You're friends with Ms. Boyd. Never mind._  
_OKAY so maybe I once made someone cry when I said 50 Shades wasn't romance but a horrific portrayal of domestic abuse._  
_She also thought vaccines cause autism though so I don't feel too bad._

**To: Stiles**  
_It's a wonder you didn't spend more time in detention._

__**From: Stiles**  
_The lack of detention is my favorite part of college.  
Well that and the whole "legal adult" thing._

**To: Stiles**  
_Okay. That gives me a few ideas.  
Saturday night work for you? 7ish?_

**From: Stiles**  
_Perfect! See you then._

A series of emoji Derek only half-understood followed the last message. He was pretty sure it meant Stiles was excited about their pending scene, but he wouldn't swear to that. Stiles kept saying, with a wink and a smile, that he was going to get Derek to understand emoji if it was the last thing he did.

Even though it was a joke—Derek was fairly sure it was a joke, anyway—it only served to remind him of how much older he was, something Stiles would remember sooner rather than later. 

He shoved the guilt away before it could eat at him. They were both adults, and Derek was more than happy to help Stiles knock items off his sexual bucket list, especially if it meant Stiles did so safely. 

And on the plus side, Laura and Erica were so happy he was seeing someone that they didn't mind becoming his go-to babysitters for Mia. At least he didn't have to worry too much about _that_.

***

When Saturday evening rolled around, Derek learned he'd spoken far too soon.

"But I don't want to!" Mia whined from the backseat.

Derek wanted to beat his head against the steering wheel, but that wasn't good when he was actively driving. "You love spending time with Aunt Erica and Aunt Laura," he said, trying reason.

"Why can't Stiles watch me?" Mia pouted. "I want to play with Stiles."

Oh joy, six years old and she was already working guilt trips, albeit unintentionally. "Stiles is busy tonight," Derek said. "He has other things he needs to do."

Of course, he couldn't tell Mia that the reason she was staying the night with her aunts was because _he_ was the one spending time with Stiles.

"But Stiles always plays with me!" Mia's voice took on the trembling that meant she was only seconds from a full-out meltdown. "How come he never plays with me anymore? Why can't he come stay with me?"

Oh God. Derek gripped the steering wheel harder and counted down from five, steeling himself for the tantrum he knew was coming.

Sure enough, at "one," Mia let out an ear-piercing shriek that had Derek wincing.

He put on his hazards and parked on the side of the road. He slammed out of his door and stalked over to Mia's side, yanking her door open.

"Mia Christine _Hale_ ," he snapped out in his best no-nonsense voice.

She snapped her mouth shut, tears trembling in her eyes.

Derek took a long, slow breath to keep from yelling. "If you continue throwing this tantrum, Stiles will not be coming over to play with you anymore. Is that clear?"

Mia's face crumpled, and Derek felt like he'd just kicked a puppy. "But," he continued quickly, "if you quiet down and behave with Aunt Laura and Aunt Erica tonight, I'll talk to him and see if he can come play with you the next time he's back in town. Do we have a deal?"

She nodded, lower lip sticking out mutinously, and wiped her eyes.

"Good."

***

Their tentative truce lasted until they reached Laura and Erica's house, at which point Mia was out of the car like a shot, flinging herself into Laura's arms and screaming, "Daddy yelled at me!"

Laura swung her up into a bear hug. "Why was Daddy yelling at you, pumpkin?"

Mia sniffled hugely and shoved her face into Laura's neck. "Because he's mean! And he hates me!"

Laura looked over Mia's dark head and raised her eyebrows at Derek. He shrugged helplessly. Honestly, he should've expected it. It wasn't the first time Mia had done something like this, but it didn't make it hurt any less. 

Laura, thankfully, didn't say anything to him, just rubbed her hand over Mia's back. "Your daddy doesn't hate you, Mia. Your daddy loves you very much, you know that."

The response was a muffled "Nooooooooo" wailed into Laura's shoulder. Derek wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"Come on, pumpkin, let's go play with Aunt Erica's Barbies and you can tell me why Daddy's so mean, okay?" Laura said.

Derek couldn't hear Mia's answer, but he guessed it was affirmative, because Laura took her inside and communicated with her eyebrows that he should go find Erica in the kitchen.

Erica, who was actually _cooking_.

"I asked you to watch my daughter, not poison her," Derek said.

Erica stuck her tongue out at him. "Oh, ha ha, you're hilarious. I'm just chopping up some fruit and veggies before we have our gourmet chicken nuggets. I noticed Mia's in a lovely mood."

Derek sank down at the table and sighed. "She hates me."

Erica hummed and set down a fistful of carrots in front of him. "Tell Auntie Erica all about it." 

Derek scowled. "You're not my aunt. And you used to give me alcohol for these conversations." 

Erica grinned. "I'm Mia's aunt. And do you really want me to be drinking before I watch your daughter for the night?" 

Because his maturity level had stunted in high school, Derek stuck out his tongue. 

Erica made a face back at him, and slid the carrots to one side in order to start cutting up watermelon. "So why does Mia hate you?" 

"Because she wants Stiles to watch her tonight," Derek admitted, the guilt creeping back over him. 

Erica raised an eyebrow. "And he can't because...he's going to be with you?" 

Derek covered his face and munched miserably on a carrot. He was a terrible father.

Erica actually _laughed_ at him, and then she hugged him. "Oh, you poor dork. Only you would feel this guilty about having consensual sex with your daughter's totally legal babysitter." 

Derek rested his head on the table and groaned. "I feel like I stole her best friend or something." 

Erica added a couple of strawberries next to his carrots. "You didn't, okay? It's just a change, and no kid likes change. She'll get over it soon enough. Besides, me and Laura are awesome and now we get a chance to spoil her even _more_ rotten." She rubbed his back. "Now quit moping and get ready to go have some super-hot sex that you will then describe to me in _perfect_ detail." 

Derek ate one of the strawberries and glared at her. "I'm not telling you anything." 

Erica sighed theatrically. "Well, it was worth a shot. Seriously, quit moping. Mia will be fine." 

"I just..." Derek raked his hands through his hair. "She adores him. And I don't want to take that from her, but..." 

"But any time Stiles spends babysitting Mia is time you don't get to fuck him senseless," Erica finished. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, hon. And you sure as hell shouldn't feel guilty about this. Okay?"

Derek checked his phone. Shit. It was almost six-thirty. "I've got to go home and get ready." He stood up and kissed Erica on the cheek. "Thank you." 

"Anytime." Erica winked. "And don't worry, I'll be sure to load Mia up with plenty of chocolate and ice cream before we bring her back tomorrow morning." 

"Erica—" Derek said warningly.

"I'm _kidding,_ God!" She shoved him. "Go, before you're late."

He went.

***

Stiles stood outside the office door, backpack slung over one shoulder and trying to tell himself he wasn't nervous. They'd talked about this. He knew what was going to happen. Well, mostly. But still he felt jittery, like he'd had too much coffee. 

Probably because this was going to be their first actual scene, acting out one of his fantasies. 

The thrill of it—of doing it with Derek—made him excited and nervous all over again. 

He raised his hand and knocked on the door. 

"Come in," Derek—no, Mr. Hale, he was Mr. Hale right now—called from the other side. 

Stiles opened the door. Derek— _Mr. Hale—_ sat at the desk, dressed like every hot professor fantasy Stiles had ever had: tweed jacket with elbow patches, a fucking sweater vest of all things, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose.

God, Stiles wanted to rub _all over_ him. He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Hale?" 

Mr. Hale didn't look up from his desk. Grading papers, Stiles assumed. "Indeed I did, Mr. Stilinski. Please, sit down." 

Stiles took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Mr. Hale's desk. He did his best to look unconcerned, but he had a feeling his fidgety hands and bouncing knee didn't help. "So what's up?" 

Mr. Hale set down his pen and finally looked up at Stiles. "Your TA, Mr. Jennings, has come to me with some concerns about your performance." 

Stiles stiffened. "Hey, my grades are fine." 

"Near the top of the class, actually, but that's not the performance he was referring to." Mr. Hale tapped a finger on his desk. "He was more concerned about your tendency to be...disruptive." 

"Disruptive?!" Stiles burst out. "I'm not...I've never been _disruptive_."

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow. "Apparently you have a tendency to dominate the discussion sections and condescend to other students when you think they're wrong. Mr. Jennings believes you don't respect his authority in the classroom. Would you say that's accurate?" 

Stiles shrugged, like he didn't particularly care. "They _are_ wrong." 

Mr. Hale looked over the thick black rims of his glasses. "That was not the question I asked."

Stiles scoffed. "I don't think it's _entirely_ accurate."

"According to this, you made one person cry when you argued with them." 

"She was saying it was okay not to vaccinate your kids!" Stiles flung out his hands. "Have you ever heard anything so irresponsible?" 

Mr. Hale took off his glasses and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose. "So this is what Mr. Jennings meant." 

"I can't let that kind of ignorance slide. It could get people sick. It's actively dangerous!" 

"While I don't disagree in _this_ particular instance, overall, it's become clear to me that you need a firmer hand than Mr. Jennings is capable of providing." Mr. Hale stood and walked around his desk. "Stand up." 

"What?" Stiles said. 

"You heard me. Stand. Up."

Stiles swallowed, his mouth inexplicably dry, and he stood. 

Mr. Hale gestured to the desk. "Now get over here and stand right in front of my desk." 

Stiles did. His hear pounded harder. "What are you going to do, spank me for misbehaving?" He tried to make it a joke, but even he could hear the unsteadiness in his voice. 

Mr. Hale didn't laugh, didn't even crack a smile. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. Now pull down your pants." 

" _What?_ You can't—"

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow, and Stiles stammered into silence. "I can, and I will. Nothing else seems to work for you, so maybe this will. Pants down, and then I want you to spread your legs and put your hands on the desk." 

There was a note of something in his voice, a thread of steel that made Stiles's dick sit up and take notice. That kind of voice made Stiles want to bend over and obey, to see if he could get Derek to call him a good boy again, but more than that, right now, he wanted to be _made_ to obey. 

He looked at Mr. Hale defiantly. "Make me." 

In a flash, Mr. Hale had him pressed against the desk, his big hands forcing Stiles's flat against the wood. Stiles resisted the urge to arch back and rub himself against Mr. Hale's chest. 

Then, Mr. Hale found Stiles's belt and swiftly unbuckled it and unbuttoned his jeans. His fingers traced over Stiles's fly, and Stiles clamped his mouth shut against the noise he wanted to make. 

Mr. Hale unzipped his pants and shoved them down over Stiles's hips, boxers and all. Stiles felt suddenly exposed with his ass bare. 

Mr. Hale pulled back, barely brushing Stiles's ass as he did. "Now, Mr. Stilinski. I am going to spank you ten times. You are going to count it out. If you miss one, we start over. If you make it all the way to ten, I'll see what I can do by way of a reward, hm?" 

_God_. Just the thought of what the "reward" might be made a tremor run through Stiles's entire body. 

"Do you understand?" Mr. Hale asked. 

Stiles bit back a grin. "Yes, Mr. Hale." 

He felt a line of heat against his back, Mr. Hale almost touching him but not quite, not even close enough that Stiles could feel the brush of his clothes against his ass. 

"Color?" Mr. Hale whispered in his ear.

Stiles wanted to lean over and kiss him quick, but instead he kept his lips to himself and just nodded. "Green." 

"Good."

Then Mr. Hale pulled away and spanked him. 

It wasn't a _hard_ swat—Mr. Hale certainly hadn't hit him as hard as he could—but it hadn't been a light tap either. Stiles jerked, more in surprise than anything else. If this was all the spanking was going to be, it wasn't going to be that—

" _Mr. Stilinski_."

"One!" Stiles blurted out. "That was one." 

"Good." Stiles swore he could hear the grin in Mr. Hale's voice. "That's the warm up." 

_Warm up?_ Stiles opened his mouth to ask what the hell he meant, when Mr. Hale's hand landed on his other ass cheek. It was harder this time, sharp enough that Stiles yelped a little. "Two!" 

The third time was harder, the smack of skin on skin echoing in Stiles's ears, a jolt of heat zipping up his spine and straight over to his dick. God, what did it say about him that _this_ turned him on? 

With the fourth one, Stiles dug his fingers into the desk and couldn't suppress the whimper in his voice when he counted. His dick was hard now, not quite so much that it was painful but enough that if Mr. Hale looked, he'd Stiles was enjoying this far more than he should.

He expected the fifth swat, but instead Mr. Hale rubbed his ass gently, the caress at odds with the sharp slaps he'd been doling out. "Very good," he murmured. "Keep going." 

_Good_. God, Stiles wanted to sob, wanted to hear it over and over and—

The fifth swat connected and Stiles jerked at the pain blossoming over his tender ass, the way it sent blood pulsing straight to his dick. "F-five."

"Mm." Mr. Hale caressed his ass again, his thumb running right up to the edge of Stiles's crack. "You're being an awfully good boy for me. Maybe you only needed five swats."

Stiles couldn't help the whine of despair he made.

"What was that?"

Stiles clutched at the desk. "No, Mr. Hale."

"No?" The hand on his ass trailed down to his thigh, and then up between his legs. Maddeningly close to his balls, but not quite there. "Are you telling me you want all ten, Stiles?"

He whimpered. "Yes, Mr. Hale."

"Then you should ask nicely."

Stiles bit back a groan, his whole body vibrating with how much he needed it to keep going. "Please, Mr. Hale."

The next spanking was harder, both a shock and a relief, and Stiles nearly sobbed at it. "Six."

He wasn't sure how he counted through the next four, each strike blooming pain across his ass that only served to take him closer to the edge, pushing him to the tipping point. His dick throbbed with each one, hell, with each shaky breath he took in, and Stiles was pretty sure all he'd need to do was touch himself before he'd come. He might not even need that at this point.

Stiles choked out a "ten" and waited for the next strike, before remembering ten was all he would get. He had to sink his teeth into his lower lip to keep from making any incriminating noises. 

Mr. Hale rested his hands on his ass and gently kneaded him. "You did so well. That's a good boy. Now get on your knees."

Stiles dropped like a stone. Distantly he was aware that he'd probably bruised at least one of his knees, but he didn't care right now. No, right now he just wanted to do whatever Mr. Hale asked of him. 

Mr. Hale unzipped his slacks and pulled out his cock, hard and already leaking from the tip. Stiles's mouth practically watered at the sight, and all he wanted to do was lean forward and take it and—

"Wait," Mr. Hale said. 

"Oh my _God_ , will you let me suck your cock?" Stiles burst out. 

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow. "I was going to check your color, but I'm guessing that greedy little outburst means you're green." 

Stiles dropped his gaze to the floor. "Sorry. Sorry, I—" 

A hand cupped his face and made him look up, and Mr. Hale ran a thumb over his lips. Stiles couldn't resist licking at it as it crossed. 

"You don't have to apologize," Mr. Hale said. "Just ask nicely." 

It took Stiles a moment for his lust-addled brain to rearrange the sentence into something that would qualify as _nicely._ "Will you let me suck your cock, Mr. Hale? Please?" 

Mr. Hale half-closed his eyes and shuddered, carding his hand through Stiles's hair. "Yes, you may."

Stiles lunged forward and wrapped his lips around Mr. Hale's cock, whimpering at the slightly salty taste of it. He loved this, loved the way it filled his mouth, the way his lips slid along the velvet-smooth skin of the shaft, the rich, heavy scent that saturated every breath he took. He couldn't take the whole thing, not yet, but Stiles was determined he'd learn eventually. For now, he licked along the thick vein that ran up the shaft, scraped along it just slightly with his teeth.

Mr. Hale hissed, his grip tightening in Stiles's hair, and his hips bucked forward, not enough to make Stiles choke but enough to surprise him.

"Sorry," Mr. Hale said breathlessly. "Sorry, that wasn't—"

Stiles pulled off. "Green."

"Green?" Mr. Hale repeated, looking a little dazed.

Hell yeah, he was green, he was so green. Stiles nodded and took Mr. Hale back in his mouth, as deep as he could, trying to psychically send the message _face fuck me, please_.

Apparently it came through loud and clear, because Mr. Hale groaned and started moving his hips again, in and out of Stiles's mouth, almost methodical in his rhythm.

It fuzzed out his mind, this sense of being used, being held in place by his hair while Mr. Hale fucked his mouth. Stiles whimpered, tried to open wider so he could take more, but he was still new at this, and couldn't take him as deep as he wanted.

Mr. Hale's hand left his hair and cupped his cheek. "Beautiful," he murmured. "You know how beautiful you look with those pretty lips of yours stretched around my cock?"

Stiles couldn't answer, couldn't do anything but lean into the warm palm on his face and look up at Mr. Hale standing above him.

"That's a good boy. You're just going to open up and let me take what I need, aren't you? Let me fuck into your mouth until I'm finished, huh?"

Yes, yes he was. Stiles whined.

"Perfect. Look how well you learn. Maybe next time we'll put a plug in your ass, hm? Make sure you're filled up from both ends. Good boys deserve to be filled up."

Oh God. The thought of that—of having a plug in his ass while Mr. Hale fucked his face—was almost enough to have Stiles coming right then.

Mr. Hale's breathing hitched, his thrusts speeding up. "I'm going to come. Think you can swallow?" 

Stiles knew a challenge when he heard one. He couldn't really nod, not with his mouth occupied as it was, but by God he was determined to swallow everything Mr. Hale gave him. He wrapped his lips tighter and flicked his gaze up, once again hoping his psychic powers were working. 

Apparently they were, because Mr. Hale actually _growled_ , and in the next breath, hot, bitter come spurted into Stiles's mouth. He swallowed what he could, but there was too much, and he had to pull off to breathe. Come splattered on his cheek and forehead, and he was pretty sure it was dribbling out of his mouth. 

He had every intention of apologizing, because he _hadn't_ been able to swallow, but when he looked up to do that, Mr. Hale was looking down at him, gaze scorching hot. 

"I changed my mind," he said roughly, rubbing his thumb along Stiles's cheek. "I think I like coming on you."

It sucked all the breath out of Stiles's body, and all he could do was kneel there, panting a little, licking his lips raw. 

"Can you stand?" Mr. Hale asked. 

Stiles nodded, and shakily got to his feet, had to lean against the desk to keep himself upright. He was still hard, so turned on it was a damn miracle he hadn't come yet, so close to the edge it felt like a breath would be enough to push him over. 

"You haven't come," Mr. Hale said. "What are you waiting for?" 

"You," Stiles said breathlessly. 

Mr. Hale's smile was utterly seductive. "Waiting for permission? Good boy." 

_God_ at some point, he was going to be able to come just from that. Stiles half-closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep from moaning. All he wanted was to be touched, wanted to come, wanted... "Please, Mr. Hale." 

Mr. Hale cursed under his breath and pulled Stiles into a kiss, hard and hot and unexpected, stubble prickling against Stiles's mouth. He was too desperate to return it well; he felt awkward and uncoordinated and sloppy. 

"Turn around and put your hands on the desk again," Mr. Hale said. "You have permission to come... _if_ you can do so from only my fingers." 

His cock jumped at the words, and Stiles shuffled around to put his hands on the desk once more. No sooner had he spread his legs, still tangled a bit in his pants now bunched around his ankles, than he felt a large, hot hand on his ass, rubbing at the skin still tender from his spankings. 

"One of these days I'll spank you more," Mr. Hale murmured in his ear, sending a delicious thrill down Stiles's spine. "Hard enough that the marks will last longer." 

A wet finger pressed against his rim, and Stiles sobbed at the feeling. 

"How would you like that?" Mr. Hale asked, pushing his finger in further. "How would you like to feel my mark on you every time you sat down, every time you shifted your weight?" 

The finger inside him moved steadily, and Stiles rocked back, trying to urge Mr. Hale deeper, trying to get to his prostate. It was good, but it wasn't enough. He needed more, needed... "More," he finally gasped out. "Please, Mr. Hale, more." 

"God, you're greedy," Mr. Hale said, and then pushed another finger inside him. 

Stiles cried out and clutched at the desk, driving himself back, but Mr. Hale put his other hand on his hip, stilling him. 

"So close, and you're still begging for more from me. Because you know I'll give it to you, right? Because you know I love it when you ask me nicely, love seeing you be such a good boy for me." 

Those fingers twisted deeper, finally brushing against his prostate, and Stiles swore. "Fuck, please, please, I'll be good, I'll be..." 

"Hush." Mr. Hale kissed his shoulder, his sweaty neck. "You're already being good, you're so good. Now I think it's been long enough, don't you? Come for me. Come on my fingers. Let me see that pretty cock of yours when you let go." 

His fingers moved faster, massaging his prostate, the scrape of his beard against Stiles's skin sending electric jolts straight to his dick. For a second, Stiles didn't think he'd be able to come, thought he'd been on edge too long to push himself over, when Mr. Hale's mouth settled on his neck and he bit, sucking at the skin there. 

Stiles came shouting, his vision blurring at the edges as he spilled all over the desk in front of him. His knees turned to water, and he'd have fallen if Mr. Hale hadn't wrapped an arm around his chest to keep him up. 

"Good boy," Mr. Hale whispered into his ear. "Absolutely beautiful." 

Stiles couldn't speak, couldn't really move. He could only sag back against Mr. Hale and hope he could hold the weight. 

That earned him a low chuckle. "Come on. Let's sit down." 

Stiles felt himself guided over to the chairs, and he collapsed gratefully into the closest one. Mr. Hale knelt in front of him and, from out of nowhere, pulled out a wet washcloth and started cleaning Stiles up. 

Well, not out of nowhere. Now that he was looking closer and his brain was clicking back on, Stiles could see the box sitting on the floor next to him. It must have been under the chair or something. 

"Here." Mr. Hale—no, he could call him Derek again, now—set a bottle of water on the small table next to him, with a straw angling out of it. Ordinarily Stiles would laugh, but right now all his bones felt like jelly and a straw seemed to be about what he could handle. 

He didn't realize how thirsty he was until the first mouthful of water hit his throat, and Stiles moaned and chugged half the bottle before he stopped for air. 

Derek set aside the washcloth and smirked. "Should I be jealous that the water made you make that sound?" 

Stiles grinned and took another gulp before he answered. "Well, you gave me the water." 

"True." Derek rested his hands on Stiles's legs and squeezed them, just a little. "How are you feeling?" 

Stiles gave him a thumbs-up. "Kind of wobbly, still, but good. Totally green." 

Derek smiled then, a genuine one. "So you liked that?" 

"Oh man." Stiles let his head drop against the back of the chair and shivered, mentally replaying their scene. "Are you kidding? That was amazing. Like ten _times_ better than the fantasy, probably because you're not an asshole and you're also way hotter than that professor. And put spanking down in the green light column, holy _shit_."

Derek chuckled. "So you'd like to do that again? Maybe try a different roleplay with similar dynamics? Or just do the spanking?" 

"Oh hell _yes_ ," Stiles said fervently. "Both. Either. I don't care. That was awesome."

"I'll keep that in mind, then." Derek stood up and held out his hand. "Let's go into the living room. I've got Star Wars in the DVD player, and we can get some snacks while we watch." 

"Star Wars?" Stiles took Derek's offered hand. "You know, you don't have to woo me." 

"Aftercare is important." Derek pulled Stiles to his feet, and gently dressed him again, pulling his boxers and jeans back up. "And aftercare means cuddling on the couch watching movies you enjoy." 

There was something oddly intimate about Derek dressing him, putting him back together after he'd been so thoroughly fucked. Stiles's face heated and he looked away until Derek was done. 

Stiles was steady enough to walk himself into the living room, but Derek stayed right beside him, one hand at the small of his back, apparently ready to dive forward and carry him should Stiles show the slightest sign of unsteadiness. 

Derek set out more water, as well as popcorn and fruit, on the coffee table, and then situated Stiles on the couch and put a blanket on the arm of the couch, within easy reach. 

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "A blanket?" 

Derek settled on the couch next to him, and put his arm around Stiles, pulling him close. "Just in case you get cold. Do you need anything else?"

Stiles shook his head, and then leaned against Derek's shoulder. Once again, it was intimate in a different way than sex, a different kind of closeness. More like...dating. 

No. No, they weren't dating. This was just a sex thing. Stiles could totally handle a sex thing. He was an adult, after all.

Derek took the bowl of fruit off the coffee table and set it between them, then held up a piece of orange. "Here. Eat." 

Stiles felt his eyebrows climb, ignored the way his heart pattered faster. "Um, what?" 

"Scenes can be draining," Derek said. "Water is good after, but so is food. You should eat some fruit."

Oh. Well. Stiles took the orange and popped it in his mouth. "In that case, I promise to eat up." 

Derek's mouth curled into the slightest smile, and he rubbed Stiles's shoulder. "Good." 

Stiles nibbled on the fruit as they watched the movie, Derek's hand a warm weight on his arm, thumb tracing a lazy circle there. Bit by bit, Stiles found himself relaxing into the couch, lulled into a sense of comfort by Derek's bulk and the familiar movie. Maybe it _was_ a little bit like a date. He was okay with that. It could be a date thing without being a feelings thing. And it was...nice. Yeah. This was nice. His ass was sore from the spankings, but it wasn't bad. 

Sometime after the _Millennium Falcon_ escaped the Death Star, Stiles looked over to see Derek frowning at his phone. "What's wrong?"

Derek shook his head and turned the phone face-down. "Nothing. Just checking on Mia." 

"Oh." Stiles shifted his weight, winced at burn on his ass. "Everything okay?" 

"Yeah. Just." Derek exhaled sharply. "She wasn't too happy about going to Laura and Erica's. She's fine now."

"Aw." Stiles nuzzled at his shoulder. "Does she miss me?" 

Derek stiffened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. 

Stiles sat up, blinking in disbelief, because _what_. "Wait, she actually misses me?" 

Derek nodded, but didn't take his eyes off the TV. "I wasn't kidding when I said you were her favorite babysitter." 

Oh man. Stiles felt suddenly guilty. He _did_ like Mia, but yeah, he'd been a little distracted by her super-hot dad for the past month. 

"Do you need a sitter tomorrow afternoon?" he blurted out before he could think too much about it. 

Derek finally looked away from the TV to stare at him. "What?" 

"Well, I'm having breakfast with my dad tomorrow before he goes in for his shift at ten, and I don't have to head back to school until four at the earliest," Stiles said. "I hadn't planned on doing anything but hang out and play video games until I left, but if you could use a couple of uninterrupted hours, I could take Mia to the park after lunch?" 

Derek's expression was unreadable. "I don't want to impose—"

"You're not imposing, I'm offering." Stiles popped another orange piece into his mouth and rested his head on Derek's shoulder once again. "Just think about it." 

Derek was silent for another five minutes, and Stiles did his best to focus on the movie and not on every tiny sound and movement Derek made beside him. 

Finally, Derek squeezed his arm. "Yeah. That would be nice. She'd really like that." 

Stiles grinned. "Awesome. I can come pick her up around one, if that works for you?" 

"Yeah. That's perfect." 

Stiles didn't have to look up to know Derek was smiling, and that made him stupidly warm inside. 

Derek kissed the top of his head. "Thanks." 

Stiles just snuggled closer and relished the bubbling happiness in his chest. "Any time."

**Author's Note:**

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